


pretty

by sinberrytea



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, Cheating, M/M, PWP, Tumblr Prompt, all of that good stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 15:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7807411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinberrytea/pseuds/sinberrytea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian is finally moving in with his girlfriend, Milah--a new flat, a new life. He sees a happy, uncompromised relationship in his future. His next door neighbor has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pretty

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of this prompt I received from sociopathicchildren on tumblr: "Captain Pan: Killian is the new next door neighbor that Peter loves to tease and get into compromising positions."
> 
> Boy, was this fun. First Captain Pan I've written, but I kinda liked it.

Killian can’t see where he’s going.

There’s a bloody giant cardboard box blocking his vision and his feet are  _ god knows where _ on the stairs below him and he almost falls backward every two steps he climbs. He’s making rather loud grunting noises but he doesn’t care if he sounds like he’s trying to have a wank with his mother in the next room—he doesn’t care about much of anything at the current moment.

In fact, he’s so focused on not caring that he fails to notice that he’s reached the last stair and takes a jolting step forward to pitch violently into a small body.

“Oh, sorry!” he hears over the scuffling of feet. Hands have grasped the other side of the box, millimeters away from his. He tries to lower the box slightly to see the face of the person opposite him, but miscalculates and spills its contents—kitchen supplies—all over a young boy with an impish face and bright blue eyes.

Something’s flashing in them, and his mouth ( _ He’s got a pretty mouth, _ Killian thinks, and then mentally slaps himself) is turned up a little on the left side, like he’s sharing a secret with Killian. Something tingles at the back of Killian’s neck and he can’t be sure if it’s a warning about this boy’s demeanor or the prospect of sharing a thing so intimate with a stranger.

All the same, Killian takes a bit too long to process the fact that he’s actually dropped the box, a bit too long to hear Milah’s voice drifting up the stairs, accompanied by the slowing of her footsteps.

“Are you alright?” she says. Killian breaks eye contact with the boy.

“’M fine, love,” he calls back down to her. “Just lost my footing.” He glances back at the boy, whose face has brightened like a child’s on Christmas morning.

“Oh, it was all my fault,” he says, a slight smile on his pretty (goddamn it, Killian) lips. “I should’ve been looking where I was going.” He stoops to pick up the whisks and small boxes filled with cutlery, and Killian follows him.

“It’s fine, lad,” Killian replies, and just like that the smile slips from the boy’s face, only to be replaced a fraction of a second later. Killian stands with the box in a lower grip, but the boy takes his time, lingering slightly when he reaches his knees. Then he smiles up at Killian, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Killian swallows. The boy stands.

“Peter.” He extends his hand. Killian takes it.

“Killian.” Tension is crackling in the air, a tension that Killian hasn’t felt since that time in uni when he found his lips on another boy’s, people all around them cheering and alcohol slick on his tongue. It scares him. Fortunately, Milah has reached the top of the stairs.

“Oh, who’s this?” She questions. The boy—Peter—drops his smoky gaze and opts for a sweet, innocent one. He drops Killian’s hand as well, and Killian feels like he’s been caught doing something dirty.

“I’m Peter. I’m in 306.” Peter adds a winning smile. Killian hates him.

“Oh, that’s right next to us! We’re 308.” Milah seems completely oblivious to what this boy is doing and implying and Killian hates her too for a moment, then wonders what the hell has gotten into him.

“What a coincidence!” Peter glances at Killian and flicks his eyebrows, shielded from Milah’s vision. “I didn’t catch your name…”

“Oh! Silly of me. I’m Milah. I assume Killian’s already introduced himself.” She shoots a look at the man in question.

“That I have,” Killian nearly growls. “And it’s been a pleasure, but we should be going. We have a lot to move.” Peter smiles even wider and tilts his head to the side slightly.

“Do you need any help?” he queries. Killian swallows again, harder, hopes this demon of a boy can’t see how much of an effect he’s having.

“I think we can manage on our own, thanks.” It’s taking everything Killian has not to snarl at the boy, or shove him up against a wall and _ do something _ . He contemplates how Peter has gotten Killian so worked up so quickly, almost laughs at how on edge he is.

“Well,” Peter fixes smoldering eyes on Killian. “I’ll be around if you need me.” He smirks one last time in Killian’s direction, then smiles brightly at Milah as he makes his way down the staircase.

And now Milah’s staring at him with a questioning look on her face.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asks. Killian almost tells her that he’s wondering the same thing. 

~*~

They’re lying in their new bed, surrounded by the boxes littering their new bedroom, in their new flat. Their clothes are strewn all over the floor.

“How does it feel?” Milah inquires quietly. Killian can hear the smile in her voice as he curls around her from behind, fingers dancing lightly down her shoulder. “Living together?”

“Good,” he says. “It feels good, love.” She snuggles closer to him and he buries his nose in the back of her neck. But a new feeling is tugging at the back of his mind, and he realizes with frustration that it’s attached to Peter, the boy next door. He tries to shove it to the back again, fails. Curses himself out.

“You stay here,” he murmurs to Milah, then slides out of bed.

“Killian,” she whines.

“No, I’m going to make you breakfast. Stay here.” She smiles at this, blows him a kiss. He smiles in return, slips on a pair of briefs, and wanders into the kitchen.

He’s taking the last pancake off the pan when there’s a knock on the door. He glances at the oven clock, which he’d set right yesterday, and notices they’ve slept into the afternoon. Begrudgingly, he goes to the door and opens it a crack.

It’s Peter.

Two blue gems sweep down the length of Killian’s body, rest on his eyes.

“Good morning,” says Peter, malice and glee plain on his features.

“Morning.” Killian returns.

“Are you all moved in? From the noise I heard last night I’d say you were.” Killian’s mouth drops open slightly, his cheeks heating. This  _ boy _ had heard him—

“I...Where are your parents? Shouldn't they be the ones checking up?” Peter smirks.

“I’m a ripe old eighteen years of age. I live on my own.” Something about legality and consent pops up in Killian’s mind, and he blushes and fights the urge to bite his lip. “I’m no boy,” Peter continues, raising his eyebrows playfully. Killian has had enough.

“What do you want?” He asks. Peter pauses, angles his head to the side. Pinches his lower lip between his thumb and pointer finger.

“A lot of things. I think you’re intelligent enough to figure them out.”

“Look,  _ boy— _ ”

“What’s going on, Killian?” Milah’s voice sounds from behind him. He turns to see her standing in the kitchen, one of his shirts falling past her upper thighs.

“Nothing. Peter just came to check up on us.” Killian turns back to him. “He has somewhere to be. Nice seeing you, neighbor.”

“Pleasure.” Peter twists his face into a grin. Killian throws him a fake smile and shuts the door.

“What’s happened with you? That was downright rude! He’s our neighbor, Killian, make an effort.” Killian clenches his jaw. He wants to tell her about the things Peter’s said, but he feels…indecent. Embarrassed. He decides against it. Milah frowns. “You should go over and apologize.” Panic grabs at Killian’s throat.

“Milah, love, that’s not really necessary. Look, I’ll apologize the next time I see him. It’s not—”

“Killian.”

“Milah.”

“ _ Killian.”  _ Killian can’t resist her.

“All right.” He puts his hands up in defense. “All right. I’ll go over now.” He goes to the bedroom, digs out jeans and a t-shirt from one of the various boxes on the floor, heads to the front door of the flat. “There’s pancakes next to the stove.” Milah smiles at him sweetly. He leaves out the door.

Annoyance riddles his brain as he knocks on the door sporting the number 306. It opens almost immediately.

“Killian, what a surprise.” Peter looks up to no good. “What brings you here?”

“My  _ girlfriend. _ ” Killian puts particular emphasis on the word. “She believes I should apologize. So…” he huffs out a breath. “I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology.” Peter says properly. “That’s very kind of you. We really should get along if we’re going to be,” Peter breaks, lips resting open as his eyes dart down to Killian’s mouth. “Neighbors.” Bites his lip. Smiles. Killian can’t take it anymore.

“Bloody hell, boy,” he hisses, grabbing a handful of Peter’s shirt and pulling him in for a kiss. Peter hums into it, running a long, smooth finger over the scruff on Killian’s cheek. Killian pulls away frantically, heavy breath occupying the small space between them.

“That’s more like it,” Peter murmurs. Strokes Killian’s cheek. Killian wants to kiss him again,  _ so bad _ , because the soft texture of the younger boy’s mouth against his already feels like addiction and something burns in him when he hears the noises their lips make together. But he feels wrong. He feels like he shouldn’t be doing what he’s doing.

And he shouldn’t.

Wordlessly, he runs his thumb along Peter’s bottom lip one last time, then turns away and disappears back into his flat. 

          ~*~

Killian is angry the entire day. Milah’s working, so he's let to his own devices—which consists, for the most part, of his attempting to read and failing due to the particularly intrusive thought of how Peter had  _ heard _ him, what Peter might have been doing while listening to the sounds through the wall. At one point he reaches for the front of his pants, then yanks his own hand away, disgusted with himself.

An hour passes. Killian figures he should get groceries. He doesn't.

Two hours. Killian is bored out of his mind. He makes lunch for himself, goes back to bed.

By the third hour, he's lusting for him, for the boy, for Peter. He's run out of other things to do, leaving him with his emotions, his needs _._ Because that's what it's become—a _need_ for being close to Peter. Killian wonders if he could make him scream.

_ Well, that's it, _ he thinks, feeling arousal pool, hot, in his abdomen. He gets up from the bed and walks decisively to the front door of the flat, heading straight for the door beside it. He knocks three times, knuckles stinging from the force of his fist against the wood.

Peter opens the door.

“Killian, twice in one d—” Killian cuts him off by grabbing his collar and pulling him in, smashing their lips together. Peter gasps into his mouth and it’s like a victory, because Killian’s finally caught the cunning fox off-guard. He pushes Peter back into his flat, reaching out a hand to shut the door behind them. Killian registers Peter’s hands tugging his shirt up over his back, and he lifts his arms above his head to comply. The boy’s graceful hands trail over Killian’s bare chest, pressing down on his hip bones.

Peter breaks away from Killian’s fiery kiss to look him straight in the eye, his own t-shirt joining Killian’s on the floor and leaving a slight cowlick in his hair. Killian drinks in the sight of him, thin and lithe and smooth and ready to be touched. Ready to be marked. Killian goes for his collarbone, sucking at it and biting down. He hears Peter breathe in sharply, feels Peter’s fingers tangle in his hair.

Lips meet lips again and they’re on a table—Killian is suspended over Peter’s small form, attacking his mouth with violent kisses and rolling his body against Peter’s.

A whimper escapes Peter’s lips and Killian moans deeply in response, crescendoing when Peter drags a hand down his front to rub it against the swell in the front of his jeans.

“Killian,” Peter breathes, and Killian doesn’t want to go back to the way it was before desire overtook his every movement—he wants to stay here, kissing this beautiful devil boy like the very world is ending.

He runs his tongue down the length of Peter’s chest, not quite sure of what he’s doing, and presses a kiss just above the hem of Peter’s jeans.

“Let me,” Peter says, and pushes Killian up and around so he’s sitting on the table. Peter drops to his knees, undoing Killian’s button and zipper, smile impossibly obscene.

Killian can’t remember the last time he was this turned on.

Peter pulls his trousers and briefs to his knees.

Killian smirks darkly at the memory of his and Milah’s generic act the night before. He’s wondering if the passion he’s feeling now would last if they were to continue on and then—

Oh, that  _ mouth. _

_ That’s _ what that’s supposed to feel like.

Peter’s delicious, teasing, leering mouth is wrapped around Killian, and his eyelashes are sweeping upward with his eyes and Killian has to close his because the contact is just too much. He already feels the orgasm coiling inside him, and every time Peter swallows him all the way it unravels Killian’s senses a little bit more, reminding him of how long it’s been since someone’s mouth was on his dick. Much less like this—the boy was so  _ bloody good _ .

He pulls at Peter’s hair, eliciting a sound from that pretty mouth and a shiver from his own spine. He digs his nails into Peter’s scalp, sucking in a breath that sends oxygen flooding through his system. With every downward movement of Peter’s lips he draws nearer to release, reaching a point where it’s so tantalizingly close he feels as if he’s never wanted anything more.

Killian comes with a moan that rips from his throat, followed by a long sigh laced with expletives. Peter slides his mouth off of Killian’s cock and wipes a drop of white from the corner of his mouth. Killian is leaning forward to kiss him when there’s a knock on the door.

Killian swears. Peter tugs his shirt on, smoothing down his hair. Killian does the same and buttons his pants, fingers shaking with post-orgasm weakness.

It’s Milah at the door. Killian feels stupid; she’d told him the day before that she’d be coming home from work early.

“Looks like you two are getting along quite nicely,” Milah remarks, and Killian can see no trace of suspicion or hostility on her face. He breathes a little easier.

“Yeah, we’ve been having a grand old time,” Killian replies, standing. “And I should go.” He goes to the door, stops. Holds out a hand to Peter. “Lovely talking with you.” Peter takes his outstretched hand almost mockingly, the same sparkle of mischief and fantasy in his eyes.

“Likewise.” Shake. Break eye contact. Walk back to the down the hall with Milah, silent. He can see it now, there is a hint of  _ something _ in Milah’s demeanor. A tenseness. They enter the flat.

“How was work?” Killian asks, breath mysteriously slipping from his lungs.

“Fine,” Milah returns. She pauses. “What is going on, Killian? You’ve been acting so strange and I’m having the feeling that there’s something the matter.” Killian smiles at her, not quite in defeat.

“I’m just...not feeling very well at the moment. I think I might go lie down.” Concern crosses Milah’s features. She sighs.

“Good then, you go lie down. Should I make you some tea?”

“That’s quite alright, love.” He kisses her. “I just need rest.” He goes to the bedroom, where he sheds his jeans and climbs into the bed.

He does try to go to sleep, he really does. But he can’t. Not when visions of that boy and his pretty mouth dance wickedly in his head.


End file.
